Scorched Souls (Chosen Book 3)

by Jeff Altabef

  “Brilliant!” I practically bounce from my seat. I’d risk the world for a day with Juliet. “London has a cracking good castle. All in favor of a visit say, aye!”

  Everyone agrees, but Troy shoots Juliet an odd look.

  She doesn’t seem to notice and says, “First, we’ve got to disguise Connor. Was that a drug store we passed on High Street?”

  Perhaps it’s the gleam in her eyes, but I get the feeling I’m not going to like what she has planned for me.

  Juliet

  We’re all capable of taking a life. It just depends upon the circumstances.

  Connor’s reaction to the butcher’s murder tells me all I need to know. He’s innocent. He can’t keep the truth from me.

  I killed a Seeker in Arizona and Gagarin back in New York City. Yes, neither was technically human, but that’s unimportant. Both times were in self-defense, or that’s what I tell myself, but in my quiet moments, I’m not so sure.

  Did I have to kill the Seeker, or did I want to kill him because he murdered Sicheii? Could we have let Gagarin live?

  It doesn’t matter now, but I bet my aura isn’t all white. It probably never was.

  Connor would never admit it, but he has a strong moral code. He might act rough, but he’d never kill someone unless he had to, unless he had no other choice. He has a stronger moral compass than me.

  Akari and I walk into town and enter a drug store named Alliance Boots. It’s not the same as CVS or Walgreens back home, but it’s a big store and has everything we need to change Connor’s appearance. He can’t go around looking like the photo in the wanted poster. Even if he’s innocent, he’ll get caught for sure.

  When we return to the boat, Akari waves a box with red hair dye in it.

  Connor shakes head. “Red. Never. I’ll look like a ginger cat.”

  Akari chuckles. “The red is for me. I want to add a streak of color to my hair. I’ve always wanted to do it and red seems like the best choice. Besides, this way people will look at me rather than you. We bought black for you.”

  I watch a YouTube video on cutting hair, lift a newly purchased pair of scissors, snip it a few times in the air for fun, and grin at Connor—basically, my best mad scientist impersonation.

  He covers his head with both his hands.

  “Stop being a baby,” I say. “You were less nervous when we faced the Deltites in the Boathouse!”

  “Watching one YouTube clip on snipping hair doesn’t make you an expert. My hair’s hard to cut.”

  “It was practically fifteen minutes.” I snip the scissors at him again.

  He shifts to stand, and I push him down. “Don’t you trust me?” I bat my eyes at him.

  “I’ll wear the ridiculous specks you bought. That should be good enough.”

  “Your hair will grow back. After we cut it, we’ll dye it black. No one will recognize you.” I move in with the scissors. “If you keep moving I’ll end up nipping your ears.”

  Connor groans. “Can’t I just wear a bloody hat?”

  Akari grabs him by the shoulders and pushes him down.

  Momentarily still, I attack. Once started, he has no choice but to stay still for the rest. We don’t let him see his reflection in a mirror until after we dye his hair. He looks all right, maybe a little tougher than he did with long shaggy brown hair. None of it matters to me. He’s the same person. Superficial things like hairstyle and color are meaningless.

  I lean back and size up the job we did. The top is longer than the sides and the back isn’t straight, but it all holds together close enough.

  I hand him the mirror. “Not the best cut in the world, but it’ll do.”

  He studies it for a few seconds, liquefies the mirror in his hand, and drops his head. “I look like a nerdy prat.”

  Blake grins. “Nothing they could do about that. Your true self came through. Welcome to the club.”

  Troy claps him on the shoulder. “It’s not too bad.”

  “Let them at your braid then.”

  “Never.” Troy laughs. “That’s the source of my spiritual strength. I’ll never cut it.”

  “No one’s looking for Troy.” Blake opens a cabinet, pulls out a bag of potato chips, and groans. “Prawn Cocktail? That’s disgusting.”

  Connor snatches the bag from him and chomps on a chip. “Stop being so American. Prawn Cocktail crisps rock. You’ve got to try oysters and vinegar.”

  Blake smirks. “Now I know why they say English food is so bad. You people will eat anything.”

  Akari returns from the bathroom, a new red streak in her short black hair. “How do I look?”

  Blake stammers. “R-Really gr-great.”

  She beams a bright smile. She probably never got the chance to be herself in her small Japanese fishing village. Now that she has a little freedom, she’s blooming in front of us and becoming brighter, bolder.

  “Shouldn’t we be going?” she says.

  We take the train into London. It’s an aboveground commuter train, and since it’s late in the day for going to work, only a few people are on it. Along the way we pass the Hampton Court Palace stop, which sends a shiver up my spine, and a feeling of dread settles into my stomach.

  We depart at the last stop, Waterloo. The station is half outside train yard, and half gigantic concourse.

  Connor waves his arms in the air with a dramatic flourish. “Waterloo is the busiest train station in England.”

  I smirk. “Wow, you really know how to show a girl a good time.”

  “Don’t worry, you’re going to love the castle.” He leads us down an escalator and into the Underground, which is a giant maze of tunnels. It’s hard not to feel like a mouse searching for cheese.

  Akari’s eyes grow wide. The congestion and tunnels may be pushing her toward a panic attack, so I take her hand. Just the touch steadies her, and she begins to walk more confidently.

  We pass hundreds of people on our way to the right train. It’s an eclectic mix: a violinist with a hat for tips, business people in suits, young adults with backpacks, even one guy hoisting a bicycle in the air before we get to the brown line.

  Connor explains that the brown line will take us to the yellow line, where we’ll get off at Tower Hill.

  The trains are newer than those in New York City. One even has a carpeted floor. Still, the network seems more complicated than the one we took in New York. It’s all a bit of a jumble, but I’m not worried about it. He knows the way, and it feels good to follow.

  I just want to enjoy the day and live for the moment for once. I don’t have a clue what will happen tomorrow when I meet the Prime Elector, and I’m not sure I’ll even have a tomorrow after that. Certainly none I can rely upon, so enjoying today is all that’s left.

  When we finally reach Tower Hill, we jostle our way out of the crowded subway car and find a long escalator that rises out of the station.

  Connor wraps his arms around my waist and I lean backward. It feels good to sense his strength and warmth. I’d like to bottle it up and take it with me tomorrow.

  When we clear the station, Akari wanders toward the curb and Connor yanks her back. “Our roads are different from yours. We drive on the correct side of the street. The left side. You all do it wrong.” He points to an arrow painted on the street, which reads, Look Right in yellow.

  “Don’t worry, you’ll get the hang of it,” he says.

  Blake frowns as a double decker bus streams past us. “Or we’ll get smoked.”

  “Well, yes, there’s always that possibility.” Connor points across the street. “That’s the Tower of London. It’s almost a thousand years old.”

  My mouth drops. We saw it briefly from the limo, but it’s more impressive from the street. A huge stone wall rings the fortress, making it look taller than it really is because of the steep slope it’s built on. A second wall sits behind the first. The tops of stone buildings peek over that one. I’m guessing a moat used to circle the fortress, especially because the castle over
looks the Thames River.

  “Come on, we’ll buy some tickets at the tourist desk and go inside.” Connor starts off toward his right, but I’m still frozen. This stone fortress has been around for almost a thousand years. None of the buildings in town back home are more than two hundred years old. Even the oldest building in New York City is practically new when compared to the Tower of London. The castle is ancient; it’s hard for me to wrap my mind around such a long history. Columbus traveled to America four hundred years after this castle was built. The masons who constructed these walls had no idea North America even existed. Just like how no one but us knows about the Deltites or that Alpha exists.

  Troy bumps into me. “That’s something. I wonder what Arizona was like a thousand years ago.”

  “We certainly didn’t have anything like this.”

  “We had cliff dwellings, buffalo herds, red rock formations, rivers with fish. Who needs castles?” He winks at me.

  I know he’s right. Nature is always more impressive than anything man can build, but still, the castle is pretty cool.

  “Come on,” Connor calls over his shoulder, and we hustle to catch up. “After they chopped off someone’s head, they’d stick it on a pike and raise it on top of the wall. That way everyone could see what happens to traitors.”

  “Great,” says Blake.

  Akari playfully elbows him. “Worried what your head would look like on a stick?”

  Blake straightens his polo shirt and speaks in an aristocratic tone. “I’m sure it would be very dignified.”

  We all laugh and make Blake buy us tickets at the kiosk. We circle the tower until we find the entrance, then march over a bridge and through a massive gate.

  “We’ve got to wait for one of the Beefeater tours.” Connor stops where a group of twenty tourists are hanging out by a Tour Starts Here sign. “They’re so much fun.”

  “Why are they called Beefeaters?” asks Akari.

  “Back in the day, and don’t ask me when the day was, the guards were the only ones around here who could afford to eat beef.” Connor smiles.

  He’s enjoying his role as tour guide, although we have to be careful not to believe everything he says. Still, he sounds on the level.

  A Beefeater strolls over and starts the tour. He’s in his fifties with a white beard and intelligent, sparkling eyes. A black top hat with red piping sits firmly on his head, and he’s wearing a black cloak with a red crown and the letters E and R on the chest. His booming voice rumbles and demands immediate respect.

  He introduces himself as Billy the Beefeater and motions for all the children to come close. When they settle in front, he glowers at them and tells them he hates children. The kids look scared, and then he tells them that monsters do exist and they hide under their beds at night.

  One young boy shouts, “My bed’s on the floor!”

  Billy smiles at him and asks whether they have an attic.

  The boy nods.

  “Better check that.” Billy grins.

  We laugh and the tour starts. Even the parents are in a good mood. He points out interesting buildings and architecture, but spends most of the time detailing the history of the castle, especially the beheadings. The names and stories rush past in a blizzard of grisly head chopping: William Hasting, Anne Boleyn, Catherine Howard, Lady Jane Grey, and Robert Devereux to name just a few.

  The tour ends and Connor grins. “I told you the Beefeater tour was fun. All those guys are retired military men. I hear they do a killer Jack the Ripper pub crawl.”

  We all laugh at his silly joke. It feels good, but the skin on my neck feels prickly. I turn and see Jared standing at the edge of one of the buildings.

  He grins and nods for me to join him.

  I turn toward the others. “I need to use the restroom. I’ll be back in a minute.” I hustle toward the building where I saw Jared, make a sharp left, and find him leaning against a wall.

  He’s wearing a loose-fitting olive trench coat, black pants and T-shirt, and he sports an arrogant grin. “I trust your flight was... uneventful.”

  “You poisoned the pilot. Why would you do that?”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” His smug voice makes it clear he had something to do with the pilot. “Are you enjoying your day in London? I’m surprised to see you sightseeing.”

  “I have until tomorrow to meet the Prime Elector. You said noon.”

  He grabs my arm and pulls me close. “I don’t like the company you’re keeping. I told you to come alone.”

  His fingers dig into my flesh, and he’s so tall, I have to strain my neck to look up at him.

  “You just said to meet the Prime Elector alone. I’ll be at the maze at noon. They won’t be with me.”

  He releases my arm. “Are you sure? If you’d like to speed things up a bit, we can kill your friends now—put them out of their misery.”

  We? I sweep my mind across the castle until it forms a grid. Four other Deltites are at the Tower: two on top of the wall in front of us, one by the Crown Jewels exhibit, and another near the armory.

  I’m a fool. I should have been looking for them all along. “No, there’s no reason for that.” I look down at my feet. “I’ll honor our arrangement. I’ll be alone tomorrow.”

  “Good. We’ll be watching.” He turns and stalks away.

  He blends into the crowd. No one else knows he’s different, that he’s an alien.

  I envy their ignorance. There’s nothing they could do about him anyway. Maybe there’s nothing I can do either.

  After straightening my shirt and slowing my racing heart back to its normal rhythm, I turn to rejoin the others, and almost bump into Troy. “What are you doing here?”

  “I thought I’d check on you. Something’s wrong.” His eyes glint suspiciously. “Don’t tell me it’s Connor, either.”

  I force a smile onto my face. “You’re imagining things.”

  “It’s not like you to put off this fight with the Prime Elector. What’s up?” He crosses his arms over his chest.

  My heart breaks. I don’t want to lie to him, but if he knows my plan to meet the Prime Elector alone, he’d never allow it. He’d follow me or find some other way to get in the way to try and protect me.

  It’s my turn to protect him, so I shrug. “It’s just jet lag. I haven’t been sleeping and thought a day off would help revive me. We’ll find the Prime Elector tomorrow. All work and no play makes for a dull Juliet. Don’t worry. Everything’s fine.”

  “You know you can tell me anything.”

  “I know. Come on, let’s join the others.” I tug on his arm and when we turn toward the others, I spot a Deltite standing only a few feet away from Blake.

  She’s hiding her face behind a map of the castle, but she’s watching us.

  Juliet

  Akari and Troy have to see the armory before they go, so we stroll among the armor, swords, crossbows, and battleaxes—quite a mix of weaponry. Blake lingers near the crossbows, and I stop in front of a long line of swords.

  Troy ambles next to me, and as usual he reads my mind. “Miss your sword?”

  I nod. “I felt stronger when I had it.”

  Connor has the extra sword we found in Stuart’s apartment; he tried to give it to me, but I refused it. It won’t help when I face the Prime Elector, so what would be the point? Besides, he’s practically as good with it as I am, and I feel better knowing that he’s armed.

  After we exit the armory, we’re all set to leave the castle... except for Blake. He crosses his arms against his thin chest and won’t budge until we agree to see the crown jewels, so we wait in the long line for the exhibit and take turns making fun of him.

  Connor laughs freely, like a wave crashing against the shore.

  I intertwine my fingers with his, wishing we could always be like this.

  When we finally enter the large exhibit hall, I marvel at the ornate crowns, scepters, swords, rings, and full-length diamond-studded robes. They�
��re way more important than just a collection of beautiful items. Royalty had them created in order to subject people to their will, to demonstrate their power over common people, to scare them and make them do their bidding.

  What will the Deltites use? Will they have jewels, fancy robes, crowns or something unexpected to remind us of their relative awesomeness? Maybe they’re so patently better than us, they won’t need anything at all.

  Connor shatters my thoughts when he whispers in my ear. “When we finish with the Prime Elector, I’ll have a crown made for you.”

  I squeeze his hand and nod toward Blake, whose tongue has practically flapped out of his mouth. “You’ll have to compete with Blake. He’ll want a few.”

  We chuckle when Akari rolls her eyes and shoves Blake in the back to make him move along.

  After the exhibit, we plunge back into the chilly afternoon. Blake chats nonstop about the jewels and their intricate designs. It’s good to hear him excited, even if it’s only about an exhibit hall of royal gems.

  My blood turns to ice when I notice three Deltites in a small knot leaning against a wall. Their drab-colored overcoats are the only things that break up their black apparel. They’re toying with us.

  Toying with me. A small blizzard swirls in my chest, so I hold Connor’s hand tighter and steer clear of them.

  We cross the gate out of the Tower, and Connor suggests we eat real fish and chips.

  Troy agrees before he finishes the word chips.

  “Brilliant,” says Connor. “I know the best place for the most authentic fish and chips in all of London.” He flags down a cab and we jump in.

  Akari asks Connor a question about British royalty, and he recites all the royal families from the beginning of time in a thick accent. He smiles at the end. “It gets drummed into every kid in England. When I’m old and senile, it’ll be the only thing I’ll remember. I’ll recite the names with a puddle of drool dripping from my mouth.”

  “Well then, that’s a pretty picture,” Blake jokes.

  The car pulls to the curb and we pile out.